Miracle
by Syraithian Black
Summary: How would Harry's life be different if he'd found something that inspired his courage and determination at a young age? Harry has plans for his future that don't involve Hogwarts and do involve a strange alliance with the Malfoys. Future slash, DMHP.
1. Prologue

At the age of seven years old, Harry Potter witnessed a miracle that would alter his life forever.

This miracle was of less than spectacular origins, but circumstances arose that rather changed the overall effect. After all, it was not very shocking to Mrs. Number Nine of Privet Drive when the twenty-pound note she was fumbling out of her husband's wallet was caught by a stray gust of wind, snatched out of her hands and down the street by the miscreant breezes. It was no great surprise when the winds tossed that twenty pound note off down the street, nor was it a truly remarkable event that this particular twenty-pound note landed at Harry Potter's feet.

And it was truly not in any way remotely miraculous that Harry Potter bent down with childish awe written clearly on his face and grabbed the twenty pound note, scrunching it up tightly in his hands as if it was the most precious thing he'd ever possessed. In fact, it _was_ the most precious thing Harry Potter had possessed, as his aunt and uncle really didn't approve of allowance, except for when it came to Dudley, because he was just such a special boy. And Harry certainly did not deserve compensation for the chores he constantly faced, as he was a troublemaker, disobedient, rude, and altogether quite deserving of multiple household chores and much worse.

But Harry was not concerned with the exact monetary value of this twenty-pound note as opposed to the various rags he'd owned in his life. No, Harry was awed by what the money could do for him. At the age of seven, Harry was mostly concerned with one terrible travesty in his life, and that was his cousin Dudley's incessant torments. The young boy had previously seen various classmates bribe Dudley with much less than a twenty-pound note, but since Harry had no money of his own, he'd been forced to endure. Now, though, Harry screwed up his courage, determined to at least make the attempt. After all, he had another two pounds stored away that he'd found before, and therefore certainly had enough to bribe Dudley for a bit.

Harry carefully plotted, waiting for the right opportunity. He decided to wait until he was absolutely sure that Dudley wanted money deeply at a time when his parents were not around to provide. He also determined that it was best to approach Dudley first, rather than waiting for the pudgy boy to slam him up against the school walls and threaten him into handing over all his money for only a temporary respite. And Harry carefully hid the twenty-pound note under his filthy mattress in his cupboard under the stairs, where he knew that no one would find it.

The event that Harry had been waiting for occurred nearly a month after a miracle deposited that twenty-pound note in Harry's hands and instilled him with a confidence and courage he'd never found in himself before. Dudley threw his beautifully and painstakingly crafted lunch during a food fight in the cafeteria, and then whined loudly when he realized that he could no longer eat said demolished lunch. Unfortunately, all of Dudley's friends had used up their lunches too, and the boy was forced to head to the vending machines down the halls of the school. Harry sneaked after Dudley and his gang, chewing on his lip nervously as his sharp eyes scanned the group.

Dudley could not find a single coin in his pockets, nor did his sheepish friends have any money to offer. Dudley's face screwed up unhappily, and Harry wondered if Dudley was actually going to cry. It was ridiculous, really; Harry never had lunch, as his aunt Petunia didn't see fit to make him any, and the school's lunches only came at a fee. Actually, Harry rarely had a full meal, and it had been a bitter internal struggle to store his money instead of spending it on a nice snack or two.

Dudley had just about worked himself up into a tantrum when Harry made his move, cautiously standing and skittering out into hall of the corridor. Harry took a deep breath, trying not to gulp as Dudley turned to glare at him.

"What do you want, freak?" Dudley sneered, his face an unpleasant puce. His hands curled into fists menacingly. "Come to play some more Harry Hunting?" Dudley's minion-friends sniggered behind him, adding their catcalls and whistles to Dudley's taunts.

"N-no," Harry said, trembling as he forced himself not to move away from Dudley, who was approaching him angrily. "Stop there! Don't come any closer!"

"Or what?" Dudley jeered. "What're you going to do, freak?"

"Stop right there if you want any food!" Harry shouted courageously, hands balled into fists.

Miracle of miracles, Dudley paused. "What do you mean? You've got food?"

"I have this," Harry said bravely, and took a battered one-pound out of his pocket. He carefully held the paper, ready to tear it. Dudley made a brief lunge forward, but Harry backed up rapidly and made a tiny little rip in the top of the note. "I said stop!" Harry shouted again.

"Give that to me, freak, or I'll make your life miserable!" Dudley yelled.

"You stop making my life miserable or I'll never give it to you!" Harry retorted, again finding his hidden courage, inspired by thoughts of the twenty-pound note safely hidden in the cupboard. "Or any of the rest of the money I have!"

"How much?" Dudley asked, piggy eyes greedy.

"I won't say," Harry said stubbornly.

"I'll tell Mummy," Dudley threatened.

"Then I'll rip it all up!" Harry declared. "I will!"

"What do you want, then?" Dudley asked, his face wrinkled up in something resembling thought.

"I want you to stop picking on me and beating me up!" Harry replied firmly, his hands trembling and inadvertently tearing the note a bit more.

"What'll you give me?"

"Er - a pound a week," Harry suggested. "And if you ever hurt me or tease me, I'll rip up the money so you can't have it."

Dudley licked his lips, his eyes darting back and forth to his friends.

"Go on, do it, Dudley!" one scrawny boy urged. "My parents don't give me _any_ allowance!"

"Yeah, all right," Dudley said, "I'll _let_ you." Dudley sneered, standing tall and inflating his chest, attempting to make himself look bigger and more frightening.

Harry found that he was no longer afraid. The power of money, he supposed; who was Dudley to stand in the way of such might? He doubted anyone could. He'd only had to show Dudley one pound at the right moment, and now his greatest enemy was vanquished forever - or as long as he could keep giving Dudley a pound a week. "Deal," Harry said. He gingerly walked over to Dudley, and gave the boy the bill. He eagerly snatched it, clutching it in fat, stubby fingers.

"Bye Dudley," Harry said, and walked out of the hall. He hadn't known that it would feel so nice to be able to turn his back on Dudley and walk away without fear. After all, Dudley didn't want to see future profits go to waste, did he?

For the first time in his life, Harry's expression slowly changed into something resembling a smirk.

It was not long afterwards that posters began appearing throughout Magnolia Crescent, advertising that one Harry Potter would be willing to do yard work and household chores. Harry had figured that Magnolia Crescent was far enough away for no one to have heard his aunt's rumors of his so-called disobedience and cruelty. He was right; it was not long before overworked and exhausted housewives began to call Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry had never been so glad that his aunt made him answer all the phone calls.

As it turned out, Harry never even needed to use the twenty-pound note. It stayed hidden in his closet, often brought out and stroked in the dark stillness of night. Harry always felt a particular fondness for that note; after all, it was his miracle.


	2. Chapter 1

One morning, just before Harry Potter was to turn eleven, an unusual piece of mail arrived at Number 4, Privet Drive.

As usual, Harry fetched the mail, distributing the letters before returning to his bacon and toast breakfast and the newspaper. Harry always read the business section, paying particularly close attention to stocks. He hadn't invested in anything yet, but he had spent months researching companies and following stock patterns and had a fairly good idea of what to invest in, and when.

Today he had a letter that was not from any clients; in fact, it was from an institution called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was pleased to inform him that he had been accepted into the ranks of the wizarding world at large. Harry suppressed a sigh at the ridiculousness of it, but stored the letter in the cupboard, with all the other letters, fliers, and papers he kept.

Harry politely thanked his aunt for breakfast, and set off for work. That was the best thing about summer vacation; he could work all day, instead of only after school. He started with the usual gardening, waiting until noon, when the sun was too hot to bear, before beginning his pet duties, taking various animals for walks, grooming and bathing them, cleaning up after them, and generally alleviating the mess of pets. He didn't stop for lunch, moving on to cleaning in the afternoon. He was quite an expert by now at cleaning just about everything, and it was common knowledge that adorable little Harry Potter could work magic with stains. In the evening, when it was cooler again, Harry returned to gardening, the task that never ended. He received payment from most of his clients, as it was the last Friday of the month: pay day. Just before the banks closed Harry ambled in the door and deposited the check in the banking account that Aunt Petunia had kindly set up for him, with a little prompting.

Afterwards, Harry had a healthy dinner, showered, stopped to grab some work from his cupboard, and retreated to his room, formerly Dudley's second bedroom. He paused, and entered Dudley's room instead.

"What is it, Mum?" Dudley asked sweetly, quickly stuffing a pornography magazine under his pillow. "Oh, it's you," the boy said with a snort.

"Hey Dudley," Harry acknowledged. "Well?"

Dudley rolled his eyes and pulled a black cellphone out of the mattress under his bed. "It's used," Dudley said, "But it works fine."

"Perfect," Harry breathed, quickly opening the phone and turning it on. "Thanks, Dudley." He reached into his pockets and pulled out the roll of fifty pounds he'd saved for his cousin. He tossed it on the bed, and Dudley stashed the money away.

"Will you leave now?" Dudley whined. "I was just getting to the good part."

Harry sneered, trying not to look too disgusted, and left the room for his own. He sat on his comfortable bed, and took out the letter he'd received, reading it over again. Something about it sounded very professional, a strict tone of voice that made Harry pause to think.

It wasn't something that he liked to brag about, but Harry did have one rather unusual talent that made him an absolute hit with those few snake-lovers in the neighborhood. Harry could speak to snakes, and for the most part they did what he told them too, albeit with more grumbling than he'd like. Apparently he earned a good deal of respect by snakes just by virtue of being a Serpent-Speaker, as they called it. Whatever the case, Harry was determined to monopolize on this gift in the future - perhaps a snake shop on the side? - and equally as resolute in making sure that no one knew. Harry was well aware that people did not like what they did not understand.

Harry logically thought about the idea, and could recall a few other instances during which small miracles had occurred around him. It was possible, he had to admit.

"Reply by owl," he murmured. A few minutes later, still meditating on the idea, Harry noticed an owl sitting just outside his window. He took the obvious course of action and let the bird in. It hooted expectantly towards him. "Of course," Harry murmured sarcastically, and grabbed a piece of paper.

_Professor McGonagall, I am pleased to accept your invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, I noticed that the acceptance letter does not mention the tuition I must pay to receive such a first-class education. I must express my utmost concerns over this matter. As for another matter entirely, I am unfamiliar with the magical community as a whole and have been raised in a magic-free environment. If there is any way you can provide the assistance necessary to overcome this barrier of ignorance, I would be extremely grateful. Again, I must reiterate that I can only attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry should there be no tuition fees, or perhaps I scholarship for which I can apply._

_Thank you for your assistance in this matter and your generous acceptance letter,_

_Harry Potter._

Harry carefully folded the paper, stuck it in an envelope, and wrote the name _Professor Minerva McGonagall_ on the front. He paused, uncertain of what else to say, and the owl hooted again. He offered the owl the letter, and it stuck out its foot. After a little trial and error and a few painful pecks, he figured out how to tie the letter around the owl's foot with a fit of string and tape. The owl flew off immediately, and Harry closed the window.

This had definitely been a strange day.

When he woke up in the morning, another owl was sitting outside his window. He let it in, and quickly took the letter.

_Mr. H. Potter,_

_I apologize for the mistake in the letter sent to you; I was under the impression that you were aware of your heritage and the wizarding world. Again, I am terribly sorry for the mix-up, as a different letter with perhaps more explanations is generally sent to Muggleborn students, those who do not have wizarding families. There is no tuition necessary to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A Professor will visit your house at noon today to guide you into the wizarding world and purchase your supplies for the year. If this is acceptable, no reply is necessary. If not, send a return letter as soon as possible._

_Our thanks and apologies,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Today was Saturday; Harry had work. He quickly wrote a letter suggesting noon on Sunday as an alternative, and sent it off with the owl. When Harry returned after his day of work, he received an affirmative reply, which was good because he'd have missed whatever professor they sent anyway.

On Sunday, the only day of the week that Harry took off, except for special requests, the professor arrived. Harry dressed in his best clothes, black slacks and an emerald green shirt that matched his eyes, and frowned slightly when he opened the door to see a slightly pudgy woman with an excited expression on her face.

"You'll be Harry Potter, then!" she said happily, giving him a warm smile. "I'm so glad to meet you at last, Mr. Potter!" She stuck out a hand, which he firmly shook. "I'm Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House," she said proudly. "Of course, you won't know anything about Houses, yet," she said with a kindly smile. "I was quite shocked to learn that Harry Potter grew up without knowing a single thing about wizards! But never you mind, Mr. Potter, we'll get that worked out soon enough!"

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said politely, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes and shut the door in his face. He hated people like this; she was so genuinely warm and friendly, acting like she already knew him and unknowingly patronizing him. She'd be absolutely heartbroken if he ever confronted her about it, though, and probably thought she was being kind. Harry dealt with enough people like her while working; he'd hoped that wizards and witches might be somewhat different. Apparently not.

"Well, come on then, Harry! We're off to Diagon Alley!" Professor Sprout gestured enthusiastically.

Harry nodded and followed her, shutting the door carefully behind him. He walked next to her, concentrating on her mindless and very informative chatter.

"You won't know a thing about Diagon Alley, but I'm sure you'll love it, all the Muggleborn children do! Not that you're a Muggleborn, Harry, you aren't at all, even though you live with Muggles." Muggles, Harry assumed, were non-magical people such as the Dursleys, and from McGonagall's letter and Sprout's talk he guessed that every once in a while Muggles gave birth to wizards, and those wizards were called Muggleborn.

"Yes, James and Lily Potter were such remarkable people!" Sprout said fondly. "I remember them so well! You look quite a bit like James, Harry, just the spitting image, except for your eyes, of course, those are from your mum. Ah, I never saw a couple so in love with each other and their baby! Now James, he was a pureblood, the Potters go back generations, almost as far as the Malfoys! Lily was a Muggleborn student, and so very brilliant. It's such a shame that they were killed like that! Terrible times, those were, terrible. Oh! You don't know anything about that, do you?" Sprout bit her lip nervously and leaned closer, whispering to Harry in a hushed voice. "Well, a terrible Dark Lord terrorized the wizarding world for years before you were even born. He was a wizard gone wrong, learned the Dark Arts and they twisted his mind and soul. Such an awful time! You-Know-Who - that's what we call the Dark Lord, since he's too terrible to be named - he believed that all Muggleborns and Muggles should be killed, along with half-bloods and anyone who even supported them! Well, for a while he was unstoppable, and everyone expected the worst."

Sprout abruptly beamed at Harry. "But things turned out all right! You see, on Halloween when you were just a baby, You-Know-Who attacked the Potters." Sprout looked at him sympathetically. "He killed your father and your mother, you poor thing. Then he turned his wand on you, Harry, and you just a baby - well. The Killing Curse can't be stopped, it's one of the Unforgivables, and no one can survive it. But you did, Harry! You-Know-Who's Killing Curse hit you right on that scar, and bounced back off! You-Know-Who was hit by his own curse, and no one's seen him since! Most think he's dead, but Professor Dumbledore believes that he's still out there somewhere, a spirit waiting to come back and wreak his vengeance - but oh, you shouldn't worry about that, Harry! You vanquished the Dark Lord, and gave the wizarding world peace! You're famous - Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Looking up into Sprout's happy expression, Harry could only think of one thing. "The Potters were purebloods, then?" he asked casually.

Sprout blinked, looking very surprised at the question. "Yes, oh yes, for nearly two and a half thousand years!"

"I see." Harry wondered if Sprout would be insulted or shocked by his next question, but decided he didn't really care. "Did they have a lot of money, then?"

Sprout's mouth hung open slightly as she looked at Harry in complete surprise, her eyes discomfortingly wide. "Well, yes, I suppose," Sprout said. "I believe the Potters were very well off, although I don't see - oh! Are you concerned about buying supplies? Don't worry, dear, it'll be just fine! Your parents set up a trust vault for you with all the Galleons you'll need to get through school! And of course, once you turn seventeen and come of age, you'll have access to the family vaults."

"Galleons?" Harry asked sharply. "Wizards have different money?"

"Oh yes, yes. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

"How much is a Galleon in pounds?" Harry asked.

"Er - five, I think. You'll have to ask the goblins for the exact exchange," Sprout confessed, "I really don't know much about Muggles. I'm pureblood myself, but of course I took Muggle Studies for years in Hogwarts!"

"Goblins?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, they run the banks," Sprout said. "Gringotts, that's the Wizarding Bank, it's completely run by goblins. They're very greedy beings, mind you, don't get between a goblin and his gold, that's what I always say!"

"What other sorts of magical creatures are there?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, hundreds and thousands, of course! It's terrible trying to hide them from the Muggles, the Ministry has such problems with that! Oh, you'll have the chance to take Care of Magical Creatures as an elective, starting third year, but I can name a few for you - let's see, well. Unicorns, mermen, goblins, trolls, giants, acromantula, hippogriffs, hags, vampires, werewolves, sphinxes, phoenixes, runespoors - there's all sorts!"

"And the Ministry, is that the government in the wizarding world?" Harry asked.

"The Ministry of Magic, yes. Of course the current Minister of Magic, that's Cornelius Fudge, he's not doing a very good job. People are happy though, it's hard not to be with You-Know-Who gone! It'll be a long time before people forget that. Well, this is good enough, I should think," Sprout said, pulling Harry into a back alley.

"I'm going to Apparate you to the Leaky Cauldron," Sprout told Harry. "Now Apparition, that's how wizards get from place to place. You can only get your license when you're seventeen, though. The Leaky Cauldron is the entryway from Muggle London to Diagon Alley. Only wizards can get in, there are Muggle-repelling and notice-me-not charms all over the place. You may feel a bit uncomfortable, so don't worry, all right?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said dutifully, trying not to shift away as Sprout's hand gripped his shoulder tightly. An instant later he felt a terrible sensation, as if he was being squeezed through a tiny tube, and he couldn't breath. He thought his head was going to burst, but an instant later the sensation disappeared with a sharp crack. He opened his eyes unsteadily and blinked at the sight of a dimly lighted, dirty sort of pub.

"Ah, Professor Sprout," the man behind the bar said. "Who's that you have with you?"

"I'm just bringing young Harry here to get his supplies for Hogwarts," Sprout said proudly, her hand gripping Harry's shoulder more tightly.

"H-h-harry Potter?" the man said, his eyes going impossibly wide. Instantly silence spread throughout the bar, and every eye turned to Harry. For a moment everyone stared at him, and then they all seemed to move at once, crowding around him, shaking his hand and introducing themselves, all of their eyes latched on his scar. Harry dealt with them as politely as he good, resisting the sensation to give them all a piece of his mind. Honestly, if this was the way he'd be treated he'd never get used to the wizarding world! But now that he'd heard what it had to offer, he had to see for himself. And Galleons - apparently, he had quite the inheritance from his parents. There was no way he would miss that.

Eventually Sprout ushered him into Diagon Alley, and Harry carefully memorized the order in which she tapped the bricks with her wand to reveal the entrance. Harry only stood staring at the remarkable sight of Diagon Alley for a moment before snapping his jaw closed. Instead he stood quiet but drank in all the sights greedily with his eyes. One part of his mind continued to listen to Sprout as she continued to prattle on about various departments in the Ministry, Aurors, Wizengamot trials, and Death Eaters. It was fascinating, especially a brief rant she gave about Lucius Malfoy, the head of the pureblood family she'd mentioned earlier. Harry decided to process the information later: right now he was simply taking in the sights.

Gringotts was an enormous bank, and Harry felt a grin stretch his lips at the warning written on the inner silver doors.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry vowed to commit the poem to memory and engrave it on the doors of the company he was determined to own one day, perhaps sooner than he'd thought, depending on the scope of the Potter inheritance. Professor Sprout approached one of the goblins, Griphook, and gave him the key to Harry's trust vault. Harry frowned, wishing he could talk to the goblins in private, and decided to come back later.

He rather enjoyed the breakneck ride to his vault, and waited impatiently while Griphook unlocked the door. Finally he gave a small grin as the door swung open, and he entered his trust vault for the first time.

His jaw dropped, and he stared with wide eyes, suddenly unable to breath. Galleons - there were Galleons everywhere, enormous stacks and piles of them haphazardly scattered in great, hilly heaps throughout the vault - silver Sickles and bronze Knuts - but the Galleons, five pounds to the Galleon - he had a small fortune down here, in his trust vault alone.

Harry abruptly had to talk to the goblin. "Professor Sprout," he said in his best sad voice, "I - I can't believe my parents left all this for me." He sniffled, for good effect. "C-c-can I - do you mind if - " he gestured for her to step away, and she nodded in understanding.

"Of course, dear," she said sympathetically. "I'll just wait in the cart." And with that she disappeared.

Harry immediately turned to Griphook, who was beginning to leave. "Do you mind answering a few questions for me?" he asked seriously. Griphook looked at him sharply, evaluating him, and then gave a brief nod.

"When can I access my family vault?" he asked.

"Only the Lord Potter, Head of the Potter Family, has access to the Potter Family vault," Griphook said, eyes narrowing. "You'll get the title when you turn seventeen. For now, you're the Potter Family Heir, a worthy title, but not enough to get you in the vault without parental supervision."

"My parents are both dead," Harry said flatly, "And if I'm the Heir, there's clearly no other Potter relative who could assume the title of Lord Potter."

"In this case, a temporary Guardian was set up for you." Griphook snapped his long, gnarled fingers and a scroll appeared in his hand. Harry didn't flinch at the magic and waited tensely for Griphook to finish reading. "Sirius Black," Griphook said finally, "Godfather of one Harry James Potter - incarcerated in Azkaban Prison for life. His assets and accounts were frozen."

Harry blinked, unsure of how to take that information. He decided to deal with it later - he needed to find out more about his family vault now. "Is he still my temporary Guardian, despite his incarceration?'

"Upon Sirius Black's imprisonment, temporary Guardianship was passed to one Albus Dumbledore. As he was charged with your care, he has been permitted to deduct a fee of 10,000 Galleons a year to pay for your upbringing."

Harry immediately heard a terrible roaring in his ears, and anger flushed through him. "He stole my money?" Harry hissed angrily.

"It was to be used only to pay for your upbringing - "

"I haven't seen any of that money!" Harry snapped angrily. "Albus Dumbledore has had no hand in my upbringing. I am currently in the care of my Muggle relations, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, who have also received no money meant for my care."

Griphook scowled. "This is a very serious accusation, Mr. Potter - Albus Dumbledore could have his Guardianship revoked over this."

"In which case the Guardianship would fall to whom?" Harry asked impatiently.

Griphook looked at the scroll again and frowned. "There are no further Guardians listed," the goblin said grudgingly. "Temporary Guardianship would return to Sirius Black."

"Then to use the money in my Family Vault, I would need to bring Sirius Black with me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No," Griphook said, "As the Heir, were your parents living you would need to be accompanied by one of them to enter your Family Vault. As your vault is entrusted to a temporary Guardian, you merely need written permission to enter the vault and use its contents as you see fit."

"Written permission from Sirius Black," Harry muttered. "Brilliant."

"And only if Albus Dumbledore is declared an unfit Guardian."

"What exactly would be required for that?" Harry asked.

"You would need to lodge an official complaint at the Ministry," Griphook said. "A small Wizengamot session would be called and the accusations addressed. For such a case, it is likely that Veritaserum would be used to produce quick and truthful answers."

"Veritaserum?"

"The strongest truth potion," Griphook told him. "If your accusations were proved to be correct, Albus Dumbledore would be summarily dismissed as your Guardian and forced to pay a fee equal to the amount of money he has received from your Family Vault, currently totaling 90,000 Galleons. Upon your eleventh birthday, that sum would become 100,000 Galleons."

"500,000 pounds," Harry muttered.

"Guardianship would then revert to Sirius Black. As he is permanently incarcerated, the Wizengamot may choose to name another temporary Guardian for you. However, this is a long and difficult process that would take at least a year."

"And if I get Sirius Black's written permission within that year, and then my Guardian changes?"

"Sirius Black's signature would remain admissible to the Wizengamot, and you would be permitted to enter and use your vault as you see fit."

"What could this new temporary Guardian do, then?" Harry asked.

"A temporary Guardian has the right to choose your place of education and lodging. The Guardian must pay for your upbringing and ensure that you are receiving suitable accommodations and living a suitable lifestyle. A temporary Guardian is meant to act as a parent until you come of age."

"I see," Harry mused. "Would it be possible to become emancipated?" he asked hopefully.

Griphook pursed his lips. "In very rare cases," he said reluctantly. "You would need a unanimous vote of the Wizengamot in your favor, which has occurred three times in the past five hundred years, and never for an emancipation case. You would also need to prove that you can act as an adult and provide for yourself, whether or not you could live on your inheritance alone."

"Hmm." Harry nodded. "Er, would you happen to know if the Wizengamot, is, ah - easy to _persuade_?" Harry shot a look at the gold in his vault.

Griphook smirked. "Very much so," the goblin said with a twisted smirk. "Members such as Lucius Malfoy, however, are difficult to persuade. The Lords of pureblood families have no need for money. There are other members who are not so easily bribed."

"And there's no other way to become emancipated?" Harry asked.

Griphook nodded reluctantly. "Should a minor gain the title of Lord, he or she would be emancipated."

"But I thought all children are given temporary Guardians?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Yes, however there are rare cases in which an unforeseeable event occurs. For example, several Lords have managed to pass their Family Rings to their heirs before dying. The Family Ring can only be worn by the Lord of the Family, and should a dying Lord pass the Ring to the underage Heir, the Heir will immediately become the new Lord. There are other instances in which extremely wealthy pureblood sons have assumed the title of Lord when their fathers died by law. As purebloods are dying out, when only a single heir is left to a family and the previous Lord dies, the Heir may be permitted to become Lord early, under the condition that the Heir is married or engaged to be married. Therefore, the new Lord will immediately begin to produce new Heirs for the Family."

"But an underage son could still have children before becoming a Lord," Harry said. "If they want more children, they should encourage all purebloods to start breeding at a younger age instead of emancipating them."

Griphook scowled. "In the wizarding world, it is beyond scandalous for wizards who are not of age to have children. Such an affair could ruin a family's reputation. A Lord, however, although underage in years, is emancipated, and therefore can have children with no social repercussions at all, and in fact a good amount of approval from the wizarding community for giving up his childhood to further the pureblood cause."

"But I'm not technically pureblood," Harry pointed out. "That couldn't work for me, anyway." He deliberately ignored his racing thoughts at that practice - he'd try to sort out that mess later!

"You are a half-blood," Griphook agreed. "However, if you have a child with a pureblood, your child would be three-quarters-blood and thus technically pureblood. This is only possible because of the extremely long and pure ancestry of the Potter line - no Muggles have diluted the bloodstream for two and a half thousand years, until your mother. If you married or became engaged to another pureblood Heir of equally impressive lineage, it is possible and perhaps even probable that you would be declared Lord Potter."

"What would happen if, hypothetically, I were to become engaged to such a pureblood, be declared Lord Potter, and then end the engagement after I turned seventeen?" Harry asked with wickedly gleaming eyes.

Griphook smirked, obviously equally pleased to be circumventing Ministry laws. "Once you come of age, your title cannot be stripped from you no matter what you do," Griphook said in satisfaction. "However, if you end the engagement before you come of age, your title will be taken until you do turn seventeen."

"Exactly what is necessary for such an engagement?" Harry asked, still having a hard time believing that he was seriously considering this.

"Your temporary Guardian and the current Lord of the family you intend to marry into would both have to give their approval. A binding spell would be formed forbidding either of you from having sex with others while the engagement is in place. That is all."

"Right, well, I'm not exactly concerned with sex now," Harry muttered. "Age doesn't matter?"

"Not in this case," Griphook said.

"So... I need to lodge a formal complaint at the Ministry of Magic, have the Wizengamot declare Albus Dumbledore an unfit temporary Guardian, get the signature and approval of Sirius Black, my convicted murdered godfather, allowing me to access my Family Vault, arrange a marriage with a high status pureblood Heir, get Sirius Black to sign his permission for that, too, and use the Ministry's law to encourage pureblood population increases to become the Lord Potter, which would then emancipate me."

"Correct," Griphook agreed with a smirk.

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the piles of Galleons. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be emancipated and in possession of that much money. He could literally do whatever he wanted, and form a truly incredible business. But if he got access to his Family Vault without being emancipated, his new temporary Guardian would still be able to dictate his life and choices to a certain extent. Harry again felt a surge of anger at Albus Dumbledore's actions in stealing his money and leaving him to the Dursleys.

"I can do that," Harry said. "Thank you for your help, Griphook." Because he thought it would be appropriate, Harry sketched a small bow.

The goblin smirked again. "I will watch your vaults with great interest, Harry Potter," the goblin said. "When your coffers overflow with gold, remember me. I am always pleased to help manage a _worthy_ client's vaults."

"I won't forget your help," Harry promised. He took another deep breath and blinked harshly, rubbing at his eyes. He blinked deeply, and managed to make himself yawn a few times, as Griphook watched in amused interest. Eventually the necessary tears rose in his eyes, and Harry was quick to rub them down his cheeks.

"One last thing," Harry said. "Is there a way for me to access the money in my trust vault directly, rather than coming down here to scoop up handfuls of it?"

"Of course," Griphook said. He snapped his fingers, and a small crest appeared. It was a shield of deep red, with a gold background. A beautiful bronze stag with gleaming red eyes stood in the middle of the crest, an enormous silver sword behind it. The letter P was engraved on the sword's hilt. Harry took the crest when Griphook offered it, and turned it to see writing etched on the back. _Property of Harry James Potter; Trust Vault 986; Nonrefundable_. "Give this to any storekeeper," Griphook instructed, "And clearly state your name and the amount necessary. The storekeeper will take the crest and speak his or her name, and the money will be transferred. Tap it with your wand three times, and it will become a Muggle credit card, directly transferring funds from your trust vault to a Muggle bank vault. Tap it another three times to turn it back."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the crest appreciatively. "Oh - and how much money exactly do I have in my trust vault?"

Griphook didn't have to check, nor did he even hesitate before replying, "5,000 Galleons. An exceedingly large amount for a trust fund, but pathetically miniscule compared to any pureblood Family Vault, let alone the Potter Family Vault."

"Thank you, Griphook," Harry said again. "I think I'm ready to face Professor Sprout now." He blinked hard again, pinched his cheeks briefly to make them red, and quietly left the vault after Griphook.

"How are you, Harry, dear?" Sprout asked sympathetically as he entered the cart next to her. "Are you feeling better?"

Harry smiled weakly, trying to look bedraggled. "I'm all right, I think," Harry said quietly. "It's just - well, I wish I could have known my parents." He bit his lip to stop from lashing out when Sprout hugged him.

"There, there, it'll be all right, you poor thing. I'll buy you some ice cream to cheer you up, all right?"

Outside of Gringotts, Harry finally succeeded in convincing Sprout that no, he did _not_ want ice cream, without offending her feelings too much. As Sprout led him to store after store, placing the purchased items in a trunk they'd bought first, she continued to chatter about the Ministry. A few well-placed nudges from Harry directed her to the subjects he was more interested in: the Wizengamot, trials, pureblood Lords, traditions, and prejudices, and a surprisingly short list of the truly purest pureblood families.

"Well, it's easy, really," Sprout said. "The Malfoys, of course, no one purer in the entire world. That's Lord Lucius Malfoy and his son and Heir, Draco Malfoy - he's your age exactly, he'll be in your year at Hogwarts. They're the most wealthy too, and they have a great deal of influence in the Ministry. Then there's the Blacks - now that's a pure family, but gone into disgrace now. Andromeda Black married a Muggleborn, Narcissa Black married Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Black married Rodolphus Lestrange, Regulus Black was killed as a Death Eater, and Sirius Black - " Sprout abruptly fell silent. "Well, never you mind about Sirius Black, he's in prison for good now. The Lestranges are pure and as dark as they come, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange - Rabastan's single, and Rodolphus and Bellatrix never had any children. They're in Azkaban now, though. There's the Crouches, used to have a lot of influence in the Ministry. There was a terrible scandal, though, Bartemius Crouch's son and Heir, Barty Crouch Jr., was arrested for being a Death Eater, and died in Azkaban. The Crouches are out of favor now. There are the Longbottoms, well, there were - poor Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured by Death Eaters until they went insane for being blood traitors, since they were always on the light side. Actually, poor Frank and Alice were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange née Black and Barty Crouch Jr. themselves, it's what got them into Azkaban. They had a son, though, Neville Longbottom, he's also your age. He was raised by his aunt Augusta, she's the only other living Longbottom. The poor boy's said to be little more than a squib, though, and the Longbottom family has lost all its influence and power, tragic, really. The Weasleys - pure as they come, at least the direct heirs, but dirt poor. There used to be the Prewetts, but they died in the war - Molly Prewett married into the Weasley family, though. They have seven children, six boys and a girl, who's a year younger than you. Ronald Weasley's the youngest boy, he's your age."

Sprout looked proudly at Harry. "And the Potters, of course," she said. "Second only to the Malfoys in terms of lineage and purity, equal with the Blacks in fortune and influence. Of course, you're a half-blood, so you won't have as much influence, but if you marry a pureblood girl you'll all but completely restore the Potters to their former glory - oh! Not that I would advise that, of course, marry the girl you love, whether she's a pureblood, half-blood, Muggleborn or even a Muggle. Oh, there are certainly other pureblood families out there, but none nearly as pure as the rest. I'm a pureblood - did I already say? - but five generations ago I have a Muggle ancestor. Now, if someone in the Potter line had a Muggle ancestor five generations back, it wouldn't matter much, since the Potter blood is always so pure otherwise, but I have a sprinkling of Muggle ancestry far back, one every few generations. Now, if no one in my family marries any Muggleborns or half-bloods, only purebloods, my great-great-great-grandchildren might be considered as pure as the Weasleys, but only if the purebloods they marry are quite pure the whole way. Every pureblood is related to all the others, of course, because they're so rare. That's why all the purebloods are dying out, there just aren't enough others to marry. That's why the Malfoys are so impressive. Three thousand, seven hundred and ninety-six years - that's how far their ancestry is pure. It's astonishing."

"That's why they have so much influence?" Harry asked.

"Well, that, but power like that doesn't come just from purity. Oh, don't get me wrong, it helps, but the Malfoys are a cunning lot. They're Slytherins, all of them, brilliant and ambitious, willing to do whatever is necessary to get what they want. They're notorious for choosing the winning side and coming out of every encounter better off than when they entered. The Malfoy family is also known for producing particularly powerful wizards. Lucius Malfoy is one of the most powerful of his generation, in fact. It's most likely that Draco, the Heir, will be even more powerful, seeing as his mother was a pureblood Black, and she can trace her ancestry back two thousand years. They're a very dark and powerful family, the Blacks - a touch of insanity to the lot of them, but powerful. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, is what they call it, and _Toujours Pur _is the family motto - always pure. Now, there are other impressive pureblood families. The Notts - the Greengrasses, Parkinsons, Averys, Crabbes, Goyles, Zabinis, Bones, Turpins, Travers, Carrows, Cornfoots, Lovegoods, and so many more - but they're not on the same level of purity. None of those families go back more than a thousand years, maybe a hundred or two more, and that's it."

Harry was beginning to wonder if he could actually pull this off. It sounded like there weren't any female Heirs that he could readily become engaged to. He frowned; Griphook had made it sound like only the eldest male son became Heir, and Sprout seemed to confirm that; all the pureblood daughters were married off into other families. How could he become engaged if there was no one around to become engaged to? The only pureblood Heirs with enough status who were even close to his age were Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom. Ronald Weasley and whoever the youngest Weasley girl was were of the right age, but not the Heir, and Harry had gotten the impression that the Weasleys weren't respected or pure enough for Harry's plans to work. In fact, he wasn't sure about Longbottom, either; Sprout made it sound like the Longbottom Family had once been great, but was currently not very well off. Actually, most of the families seemed to be like that. The Blacks had no continuing Heirs, only Sirius Black, who was in prison for life. The Lestranges were all dead or in prison, the Crouches were out of favor or in prison, the Longbottoms tortured to insanity, the Weasleys dirt poor. The only truly respected purebloods nowadays were the Malfoys.

_Too bad Draco Malfoy isn't female_, Harry thought glumly. _And too bad Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and would likely kill me on sight instead of offering his son's hand in marriage._

"Do all pureblood daughters marry into other families?" Harry asked.

"Most of them, yes," Sprout answered. "There's a few who don't, but mostly there aren't enough. Pureblood husbands and wives are always in demand."

Harry chewed on his lip, trying to think of a good way to phrase his question. Finally he carefully said, "What happens if one pureblood generation has only sons?"

"Well, I suppose the sons would marry each other," Sprout said with a shrug. "Marriages between two wizards or two witches aren't uncommon, to keep the bloodlines pure. It happens quite a lot, actually. Most wizards and witches have had partners of both sexes, both almost all of us lean more towards one side than the other."

"B-but I thought the marriages were arranged to have more children!" Harry managed, still somewhat astonished.

"Oh, yes," Sprout said, "I forgot! There are potions for that sort of thing."

"To make men pregnant?" Harry asked, unable to keep his voice from squeaking a bit.

Sprout laughed in amusement. "Oh no, nothing like that!" she said. "There is a combination of potions, spells, and a ritual that allows two men to combine their genes and place it into a woman. The woman contributes no genetic material whatsoever to the mixture, just carries the child until birth. Any Muggleborn is acceptable to carry the child. Similarly, two women can combine their genes into one of them, so the child's blood is still pure and a product of both parents' genes."

"I didn't know that was possible," Harry said, blinking.

"Well, anything's possible with magic," Sprout said happily.

"Right," Harry agreed. _I suppose Draco Malfoy doesn't have to be female after all. I wonder if there's something I could offer Lucius Malfoy to make him agree to an engagement._

"So, er, you've mentioned this prison a lot," Harry said, hoping he wasn't being too obvious. "What was it called again? Er - Azelfran?" He cursed himself for inventing such a stupid name, knowing full well what the prison was called.

"That's Azkaban, dear," Sprout said fondly. "The wizarding prison. Azkaban's a terrible place, really. It's guarded by Dementors. They're the absolute worst creatures, terrible things. Whenever they're around, everything becomes cold, and all the happiness is sucked out of the world. They feed on your happy emotions and memories, and make you relive your worst experiences. And they can remove your soul with the Dementor's Kiss, leaving just a hollow shell of a body behind." Sprout shuddered. "Most prisoners go insane after only a few weeks of it."

"Wow," Harry said. "I guess only the worst prisoners go there, then."

"Oh yes, Harry, the very worst."

"So Barty Crouch Jr. and Bellatrix Lestrange went there for torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom," Harry said. "Why did Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange get sent there?"

"They were Death Eaters as well," Sprout said sadly. "They hurt and killed many, many people, Harry."

"Oh," Harry said. "What about Sirius Black?"

Sprout hesitated, the color draining from her face. "Oh, that terrible man," she whispered. "He - well, he pretended to be on the light side, Harry. Your par - that is, a lot of people trusted him a great deal. But eventually, Black betrayed them all to You-Know-Who. He was sent to Azkaban after killing poor Peter Pettigrew and blowing up twelve Muggles along with him."

"That's terrible," Harry said quietly, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest. It was far too obvious what had happened. James and Lily Potter had named Sirius Black his godfather and temporary Guardian, and Sprout's slip of the tongue had confirmed that Sirius Black was a close, trusted companion of the Potters. He'd betrayed them and been sent to Azkaban, probably after they died, which was why they hadn't changed his status as Harry's temporary Guardian. It sounded like Sirius Black would be very much insane after ten years in Azkaban, as well. And this was the man who needed to approve all of Harry's dealings.

Brilliant.

Harry and Sprout finished their shopping spree at Ollivander's wands, where Harry purchased a wand that apparently shared a core with You-Know-Who's wand. At that point Harry was dying to know the Dark Lord's real name, and begged Sprout until she finally wrote it down on a scrap of paper and handed it to him, looking away and demanding in a frightened voice that he destroy it after he read it.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked incredulously, and Sprout gave a sharp, fearful breath.

"Don't say his name," Sprout implored him.

"Er, sorry," Harry said, shoving the small, crumpled paper into his pocket. "I won't."

Thankfully, Harry convinced Sprout to show him where the Leaky Cauldron was in Muggle London before she Apparated back to Privet Drive with him, his trunk in one hand.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Harry," Sprout said, beaming as she shook the boy's hand again. "Please send me a letter if you have any questions for me." Harry didn't bother to mention that he didn't have an owl; he'd find his information in other ways, now. "Goodbye, then, Harry. Oh - and here's your ticket!" She handed Harry the paper. Thankfully, she'd already explained the entire process to Harry.

"Thank you very much, Professor Sprout," Harry said politely. "I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts." He waved and smiled brightly as she left, and then closed the door. The smile disappeared as he trudged back up to his room, dragging his trunk behind him.

For the rest of the day, Harry sat on his bed, puzzling out the information given to him. He scribbled everything down in one of his many notebooks, making sure that he wouldn't forget a single detail. He only marked one thing in particular; he firmly underlined in dark pen the name _Draco Malfoy_.

Thanks to the people who're reading my story! If you have the time, drop a review, please.


	3. Chapter 2

Harry called every single one of his clients and politely thanked them and told them that he could no longer assist them, refusing to accept any cries and pleas of protest. Afterwards, he bought a cap that completely concealed his scar, only his messy bangs sticking out of the corners, and a large dark sweatshirt that reached down to his knees. A pair of sunglasses later, and Harry felt prepared to face Diagon Alley. He took a taxi cab to the Leaky Cauldron and used his own wand to tap open the entrance.

Harry immediately returned to the bookstore, Flourish & Blotts, where he proceeded to buy a large number of very useful books that he'd noticed but hadn't bought yet. He didn't spare any expense, despite his normal reluctance to spend too much of his hard-earned money, ensuring that he had a complete set of books describing the wizarding world, and particularly wizarding businesses.

As it turned out during the weeks of study that followed, the wizarding world was not nearly so advanced as the Muggle one. Wizards were really very prejudiced, easily bribed or influenced, and the Ministry of Magic was a joke. Harry paid for a subscription to the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, the two most well known wizarding newspapers in Europe, and the magazines Challenges in Charming, the Practical Potioneer, Transfiguration Today, and Which Broomstick. He also bought the magical equivalent of a radio and constantly listened to the strange songs and news of the Wizarding Wireless Network. He figured that he learned the most about wizarding culture from Witch Weekly and the WWN.

After a bit more research into wizarding media, Harry discovered that it was quite possible to buy a share of the various companies, as in the Muggle world, although in a very different way. If Harry met with the owner of each company, he could negotiate an arrangement with them, a certain price he'd pay to own a certain amount of the company and it's proceeds. Harry couldn't be sure how much it would cost, but he was determined to own the entirety of the Daily Prophet, which seemed possible if he had access to the Potter Family Vault. He couldn't even begin to imagine how useful it would be to own such a widely read newspaper.

However, Harry's main focus was on wizarding law and Azkaban. Harry found that every prisoner was entitled to one visit every year. No one had visited Sirius Black over his years of imprisonment, so Harry could technically demand to see the man, and he couldn't be refused. Therefore, Harry crafted a careful letter.

_To the Chief Warden and Manager of Azkaban:_

_It is my request to visit one Sirius Black, convicted mass murderer, on the 31st of August. I am aware that Lord Black is permitted one visitor per year, and as he has not yet had a single visitor, this request can not lawfully denied. On a side note, I would greatly appreciate your discretion as to this matter, and am therefore enclosing a gift to show my gratitude. Please reply as soon as possible._

_Thank you, Harry Potter._

He added twenty Galleons, a very high bribe from what he could tell, and sent the letter through the owl post in Diagon Alley. The next day, his answer came.

_Harry Potter,_

_I am always happy to assist such a polite petitioner. Your gift was well received, and I will remain discrete concerning your visit. Please arrive at the Office for the Imprisonment and Containment of Dangerous Magical Criminals on the second level of the Ministry of Magic at twelve o'clock on August 31st._

_Erithmus Vigspratt, Chief Warden and Manager of Azkaban._

Harry grinned and decided that it was time to pay the Ministry of Magic a little visit. He took a taxi to the phone booth that he knew was the visitor's entrance to the Ministry and dialed the correct number, 6-2-4-4-2, waiting patiently.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," said a cool female voice. "Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, here to lodge a formal complaint with the Wizengamot Council of Magical Law," Harry said.

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes." A badge slid out of the metal tube usually used for returned coins. Harry smiled at the sight of the badge and attached it to the plain black robes he'd gotten for the occasion. It read: **Harry Potter, Plaintiff**. Harry continued into the Ministry, submitting to the scans over his person and wand. He had to admit that he was nervous; there were a great many people walking the halls of the Ministry, and most of them stopped to gawk at his scar.

Harry finally reached the second level of the Ministry, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and made his way to the offices of the Wizengamot Council of Magical Law, exceedingly glad that he'd studied a few maps of the place beforehand. Harry finally knocked on the door of a small office which said, **Wizengamot Council of Magical Law: Regulation of Child Welfare Division**.

"Enter," an irritated female voice said, and Harry did so, closing the door behind him. The woman sat in a small chair behind a desk overflowing with paperwork, frantically scribbling. In front of the desk were five chairs and a small table that crowded the tiny office.

"My name is Hilda, how can I help you," she said, not taking her eyes from her papers.

"I'd like to lodge a formal complaint against a temporary Guardian for thievery and neglect."

"Please take a form and fill it out completely," Hilda said, raising one hand briefly to point at a tall stack of papers on the edge of her desk. Harry took one of the forms, stole a pen from her desk, and sat in one of the chairs.

The form asked for the plaintiff, child, and temporary Guardian's name and various information about the situation. Harry wrote down everything he knew, filling in the form as completely as possible, and then stood half an hour later.

"I'm done," he said, setting the pen back on the desk. Hilda reached out a hand, not looking up still, and Harry gave her the form. She slammed it onto her desk and quickly read over it, and then her head shot up, eyes wide.

"Harry Potter?" she asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Yes?" Harry asked, unable to resist a small smirk.

"Oh - oh - well, it's an honor to meet you," Hilda said, obviously flustered. She actually batted her eyelashes at him, leading forward. "I'll be sure to help you in every way I possibly can," she promised. Harry felt more than a little disgusted, but smiled at her and casually brushed back his hair to reveal his scar.

"Thank you, Hilda," he said sweetly. "I really appreciate that."

"Please, have a seat while I review your case," Hilda said, and Harry sat, waiting. A moment later Hilda spoke again. "Why, that's terrible, Mister Potter!" she said in a scandalized voice. "Albus Dumbledore certainly has wronged you! If what you wrote is true - and I'm sure it is, Mister Potter - then your case will be over quickly indeed. Temporary Guardianship would then return to - oh my! Sirius Black?" Hilda looked at Harry pityingly. "Now, I certainly don't approve of what Dumbledore is doing, Mister Potter, but perhaps he is better than Sirius Black."

"I agree," Harry said, "But I was hoping that the Ministry could find me a new, better temporary Guardian than Sirius Black. Is that possible?"

"Well, yes, but it might take some time, Mister Potter, as much as a year."

"I'm sure Sirius Black can't do much to me from Azkaban," Harry said. "I'll be all right going to Hogwarts for a year."

"Very well, Mister Potter, there's nothing wrong with that. I'll make sure that your case receives special attention and top priority. The Ministry will owl you with the date of the trial. It will likely be within a week."

Harry mentally grinned at that. He'd been hoping to have his Guardianship return to Sirius Black before visiting the man in prison, and the thirty-first, the day he was going to Azkaban, was a good while away. "Excellent. Thank you so much, Hilda, I'll never forget your kindness."

Hilda seemed extremely flattered. "Well, anything for you, Mister Potter, I'm just glad to help."

Harry nodded, smiled, and left a moment later, unable to stop grinning the entire trip back to Number 4 Privet Drive.

Four days later Harry received a letter from the Ministry of Magic.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_The Ministry of Magic summons you to attend the Wizengamot trial on 12th August concerning your temporary Guardian. Please arrive promptly at Courtroom 10 at ten o'clock._

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Hilda Graffinberg, Wizengamot Council of Magical Law: Regulation of Child Welfare Division, Ministry of Magic._

Harry bought a nice green tie to go along with his black robes.

On the day of the trial, Harry made his way to level ten of the Ministry, where the courtrooms were, and as immediately welcomed by a man in an Auror's robes, who courteously led him to the right room and sent him in. Harry blinked and scanned the many faces looking at him, recognizing Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge, his Undersecretary, and Albus Dumbledore, calmly sitting in the middle of the room and facing the fifty members of the Wizengamot, clad in plum robes. Fudge was in the middle of the room.

"Wizengamot trial on the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a bored voice, "into offenses committed by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to Harry James Potter, ward of Mr. Dumbledore. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Witness for the dfense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Witness for the prosecution, Harry James Potter. The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, leave his ward Harry James Potter with a family of Muggles and provide no monetary support for either Mr. Potter or the Muggle family. Mr. Dumbledore, are you the temporary Guardian of Harry James Potter?"

"I am," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling strangely. Harry disliked him instantly.

"And did you abandon Harry James Potter with Muggles?"

"I merely returned Harry to his family," Dumbledore said mildly. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley are Harry's aunt and uncle, and his closest relations."

"But as Mr. Potter's temporary Guardian, you were charged with his care."

"I took care to ensure that Harry was as safe as possible. Harry received better care with the Dursleys."

"And why is that, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Because the Dursleys' home carries very strong protection wards, made possible because they are related to him by blood."

"And you feel that it was better to neglect and abandon your charge in a house with these wards rather than protect him yourself?"

"I do."

"Then you do not believe yourself a fit temporary Guardian?"

"I am sure that I am the best Guardian for Harry's protection. Harry merely had to stay with his Muggle family for his own safety, and therefore I fulfilled my duties as his Guardian."

"Did you not receive and accept funds equaling ten thousand Galleons a year for Harry James Potter's protection and upbringing?" Muttered gasps and whispers were heard throughout the court at the amount of money.

"I did," Dumbledore admitted reluctantly.

"And did you use these funds for Harry Potter's protection and upbringing?"

"I used this money to ensure Harry's protection," Dumbledore said, sounding slightly less sure of himself. "These funds have all contributed to Harry's safety."

"How is that?"

"I have invested the funds in groups meant to increase the safety of the wizarding world as a whole and Harry Potter in particular," Dumbledore said.

"But you did not directly use this money to raise Harry Potter?"

"I did not," Dumbledore admitted, and the whispers started up again.

Fudge smirked. "Very well, Mr. Dumbledore, thank you. Harry James Potter, will you accept Veritaserum to insure the veracity of your testimony, as Mr. Dumbledore has previously done?"

"I will," Harry said confidently. The Auror walked over to him and let three drops of Veritaserum fall from an open potion to Harry's tongue. He felt slightly dizzy, and the world receded to a dull haze. Still, part of him understood what was happening around him, and he tried to focus through the confusion.

"Where do you live?"

"With my aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, at Number 4 Privet Drive, in Surrey."

"When did you first learn of Albus Dumbledore?"

"One of the goblins at Gringotts told me when I came to buy my school supplies a week or two ago," Harry said. "Before that, I didn't even know he existed."

"Albus Dumbledore is a well known wizard, surely you'd heard of him?" one witch asked sharply.

"I was not aware of the wizarding world or the existence of magic before I received my Hogwarts letter." More whispers followed his statement.

"Your relatives did not tell you?"

"They told me that magic wasn't real, and my parents died in a car crash."

"How did they treat you?"

"Not well. I lived in a cupboard for eight years before they gave me the second bedroom. I've also had to do all the chores around the house since I was four."

"Do you believe that the Dursleys are fit guardians?"

"I do not."

"Have you received any money from Albus Dumbledore for your protection or care?"

"I have not."

"Thank you, that will be all." The Auror quickly administered the antidote to Veritaserum, making Harry's head spin briefly before settling back down. He blinked, watching the Wizengamot members rapidly talking with each other in decidedly less hushed tones than before.

"Those in favor of clearing the witness of all charges?" asked one witch, who Harry thought was Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He'd heard her talk a few times on the WWN, and she was always very sensible, in his opinion. Only a very few hands raised, and Albus Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly and his shoulders slumped a bit.

"And those in favor of conviction?" Almost every hand was raised.

"Excellent," Fudge said, looking extremely pleased. Harry had counted on Fudge's cooperation in this; the Minister was not fond of Albus Dumbledore, hating the influence and power Dumbledore held. That was no doubt why a full criminal trial had been called to deal with the matter, and the trial was set and concluded so swiftly. Harry also suspected that Fudge would attempt to become Harry's new temporary Guardian himself, but hopefully by that point he'd already be the emancipated Lord Potter.

"The court will break for fifteen minutes to decide on the penalty," Fudge declared. "Dismissed." Harry saw Dumbledore about to approach him and quickly scurried away. Outside the courtroom Harry found just the person he'd been looking for: Rita Skeeter. He'd searched a good many books looking for pictures of the most famous reporters, and he'd hoped for Skeeter in particular. Her articles were always well read and believed, and delightfully phrased.

"Mister Potter," Skeeter said, obviously just as pleased to see him as he was to see her. "How about - "

"An interview, lovely," Harry said. "Hurry, Dumbledore's coming after me." Skeeter gave a wicked smile at that, grabbed Harry's arm, and forcefully dragged him off through the Ministry halls until he was thoroughly lost. Eventually she shoved him into a small office with a sign reading, **Magical Plumbing Division: Clerical Errors Filing Systems**. She closed the door and cast a few spells that Harry didn't recognize before sitting in one of the few chairs. The rest of the room was completely overtaken by enormous disorganized clumps of paper.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," Skeeter said pleasantly, and took a roll of parchment and a Quick-Quotes Quill out of her purse. "Don't mind that," she said as the quill began to write. "It'll take notes all on its own."

"Ms. Skeeter," Harry said plainly, "I'd really like to come off favorably in this interview."

"Is that so?" Skeeter asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward interestedly. "Delightful."

"In return," Harry continued, "I'd be willing to give you interviews at least a few times a year, and only you. I'll feed you whatever stories I come across. I assure you, Ms. Skeeter, I'm going to be busy over the next few years and there'll be a great deal to write about me. Agreed?"

"Excellent," Skeeter said with a predatory smile. "What a dear boy. Now, Harry, let's get right to it, shall we? How do you feel about this whole sordid affair?"

"It's terrible," Harry said with a sniff, making his eyes big for the quill, which he knew would exaggerate his every action. "My Muggle relatives have always told me that magic is nasty and vile, and they locked me up whenever I did accidental magic. As soon as I found out that magic was real, I knew I had to do something about it. It's not right for a wizard or witch to grow up without any knowledge of the wizarding world, and I was sure that something had to have gone wrong. After all, I've heard so much about the Ministry of Magic in the past few weeks, and I know they wouldn't normally let anything bad happen to a wizard child. I understood what had happened when I was told that Mr. Dumbledore was stealing my money. I don't really know much about him, but I was really upset to hear that he'd taken so much money from me, starting when I was just a baby. I know that the Ministry couldn't possibly have known that such a respected man would do something that cruel, and I'm glad to know that Mr. Dumbledore won't be my Guardian any more. The Wizengamot voted almost unanimously that he is guilty of all charges. I don't know if I'll be able to go to Hogwarts, either, if Mr. Dumbledore is the headmaster there."

"Oh, that must be terrible for you, Harry," Skeeter gushed, eyes bright and eager. "Tell me more about how the Muggles treated you."

Harry took a deep breath. This was the hardest part of the interview, for him. He'd planned out what he wanted to say, but it was still difficult. He had to make the Muggles sound terrible to gain sympathy, but not so bad that people thought of him as a weak, abused boy without a will or opinions of his own. He needed to take a harsh enough stance on Muggles to satisfy pureblood bigots like Lucius Malfoy, but not hard enough to be noticeable and gain the distrust of the light minded wizards. If he had to, though, Harry would choose to lean towards the side of the purebloods against Muggles. He'd never go so far as to publicly say that they should be exterminated, but he had to show at least some willingness to work against Muggles if Lucius Malfoy would allow an engagement between him and his son.

"I hated the way they treated me," Harry said. "They were always so rude to me, and punished me for being different from them. At first I thought that the Muggle authorities would notice, but almost all of the Muggles treated me with distaste. It's really sad that they couldn't see past our differences and attempt to bridge that gap between us, but I understand it better now that I know my heritage. I'm fundamentally different from Muggles, and I think that even if they'd made some effort we never would have gotten along well. In my experience, wizards and Muggles just don't mix, and forcing them too only leads to terrible situations like mine. But I do think that the Muggles could have at least treated me with courtesy, and in return I could be polite to them. It's possible for us to coexist, but the Muggles who raised me wouldn't even try. Of course, a loving and understanding relationship with wizarding parents would have been many times better than a polite but slightly cold relationship with Muggle parents. I'm just glad to be in the wizarding world now, and I'm eager to learn even more about my heritage and what it means to be a wizard."

"Wonderful, Harry, and how terrible for you as well, of course - and how remarkable that you've managed so well. You mentioned that you were upset with Albus Dumbledore - what are your further feelings?"

"Well, I'm mostly disappointed in him. I've heard that he's very respected wizard and I would've thought that he'd be above stealing from a child. I think it's always a terrible thing to realize that someone you look up to is really a bad person deep down inside. I suppose the news will hit the rest of the wizarding world harder than me, because I didn't grow up hearing stories about Mr. Dumbledore and how wonderful he is. Mostly I'm worried for the children who go to Hogwarts. If Mr. Dumbledore could do something like this to one child, he's definitely not above abusing his power, and he could have hurt other children before me. I wouldn't want a man like that in charge of my education. I have heard that Hogwarts is a really wonderful school though, and I feel better knowing that people from the Board of Governors, like Lord Malfoy, have an important say in how Hogwarts is run."

"Mmm... how noble of you, Harry, to worry about others instead of yourself. And how do you feel about the Ministry's part in all of this?"

"Oh, the Ministry of Magic has done an excellent job. The Chief of the Regulation of Child Welfare Division in the Wizengamot Council of Magical Law, Hilda Graffinberg, was absolutely wonderful. She promised to ensure that I received the best care there was, and she made this trial possible. I'm very grateful to her and I've really relied on her kindness and understanding during these difficult times. Minister Fudge was also wonderful, even taking the time out of his busy schedule to attend the trial in person. I'm really honored, and I can tell that Minister Fudge doesn't just care about the wizarding world as a whole, he really cares about each individual and wants what's best for us. The entire Wizengamot has my thanks for being so fair in their proceedings. I'm really pleased that this has happened so fast!"

"Lovely, Harry, our hearts are with you. Do you have any words to say to the wizarding public at large about your unfortunate childhood?"

"Well, I'd just like to say again how happy I am to enter this new world. I feel like I can really belong here, and I look forward to seeing everything the wizarding world can offer. I've never been so hopeful for my future, and that of my fellow wizarding children."

"That's fabulous, Harry, I'm ecstatic for you, what a dear." An instant later Skeeter's quill and parchment were safely tucked away in her bag. "Thanks, Harry." She grinned, shark-like. "You have a gift for this sort of thing. I think I know what you're trying to do with this article, and I'd be happy to help. I think this little partnership of ours is going to work out wonderfully in the future."

"Me too," Harry said with a grin. "Thanks, Ms. Skeeter."

"You'd better go then," she said decisively, quickly taking down the spells around the office and leading Harry back to the courtroom. "Owl me," she mouthed, and then quickly left, and Harry reentered the dimly lit courtroom.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you have been convicted of knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions, leaving your ward Harry James Potter with a family of Muggles and providing no monetary support for either Mr. Potter or the Muggles involved. You are hereby fined a sum of 100,000 Galleons, to be paid to the Potter Family Vault, and your Guardianship of Harry James Potter has been revoked. As of now, the temporary Guardianship of Mr. Potter were return to one Sirius Black, until the Ministry provides a new temporary Guardian."

Very much satisfied, Harry slipped away, again avoiding Dumbledore, and took a taxi back to Privet Drive. The next day, Harry eagerly read the article Skeeter wrote on the front page of the Daily Prophet: **Boy-Who-Lived Speaks Out Against Criminal: The Lies of Albus Dumbledore**. Skeeter was absolutely perfect, and made sure to emphasize all the points Harry wanted. She portrayed him as a brave and well-spoken young man who rose above his terrible past to champion wronged children everywhere and take a stand for the rights of all wizards. Harry grinned in satisfaction at the flattering quotes she'd added about the Ministry, and Hilda Graffinberg in particular. The next day, Harry returned to the Ministry, making his way to Hilda's office once again.

"Hello, Hilda," he said charmingly, entering the room. Hilda looked up from her constant paperwork with wide, awed eyes.

"Mister Potter!" she nearly squealed. "Oh, I was so delighted to read the article about your case in the Prophet! I'm so glad to be of help, Mr. Potter, that's all I could ask for!"

"You deserved it, Hilda," Harry said with false warmth. "Er, Hilda, I have a question."

"Oh yes, ask away," Hilda said with a bright smile.

"Well, even though the Wizengamot told Mr. Dumbledore to pay me back, I want to be sure he's not still stealing from me." Harry fidgeted slightly, trying to look pathetic. "I know it's silly of me, but I can't help but worry that he's still going to find a way to take away the only things my family left me. I want to visit my Family Vault in Gringotts to make sure, but I know that's not possible without my temporary Guardian's permission. I was wondering if I could have a form for that."

"Oh, yes, of course," Hilda said warmly, and Harry blessed his fame. It was a truly formidable tool. Hilda pulled a paper out of a drawer and handed it to him with a flourish, along with a fancy golden quill. Harry smiled and thanked her, and quickly filled out the form, stating his name, that of his Guardian, and his desire to have total access to his Family Vault and to use its contents as he saw fit.

"Once you've got your new Guardian's signature," Hilda said when Harry returned the quill, "Just bring it all back. I'll check it over once to make sure everything's in order, and then I'll give it the stamp of approval!"

"Thanks, Hilda," Harry said with another smile, and left. Now there was just one thing to do before his visit to Azkaban, and it would no doubt be much harder than removing Albus Dumbledore as his temporary Guardian. Now, Harry had to somehow convince the ex-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy that it was in his best interest to arrange an engagement between his son and Harry Potter.

Thanks for the reviews! :) I love hearing from you. This is my first Harry Potter fic, so I need constant reassurement that I'm doing okay! (If I'm not, please tell me…)

Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 3

He spent nearly a day crafting his letter to Lucius Malfoy, writing and rewriting it, crossing things out, underlining bits, and generally editing every last tiny detail to perfection, including the way it should be placed on the page. He'd gotten extremely expensive, high quality parchment and an equally expensive ink and quill, which together had cost about as much as the entirety of his Hogwarts supplies had. He carefully wrote the finished letter out in his best and most wizard-like handwriting.

_To the Lord Lucius Malfoy,_

_Greetings, Lord Malfoy. As a wizard devoted to the twin causes of purity and power, I seek a union worthy of our two great bloodlines. An alliance between our two Families would benefit us both in countless ways and further increase the already priceless purity of our blood. Although the Potter Family and the Malfoy Family have often disagreed in the past, our ancestors have shared a common belief in the importance of purity, and now all ancient grudges must be forgotten and our Families bound together. In this way only can our mutual purity, status, and power continue to grow rather than remaining stagnant or dying out altogether. To this end, I suggest a meeting between us to discuss the furthering of our shared goals._

_Harry James Potter, Heir of the Potter Family_.

Harry knew that it would be decidedly unimpressive to send the letter with a rented owl, so he finally bought one of his own. He decided that an enormous black eagle owl was the best choice of the lot, and named it Fax, after the famous Faxlarn Potter, who lived a thousand years back and had quite the reputation as a pureblood supremacist. He sent the letter and spent the next five days worrying about it relentlessly before he finally received a reply.

_To Harry Potter, Heir of the Potter Family,_

_I would not be opposed to a meeting at Malfoy Manor at one o'clock on the fifteenth. No reply is necessary._

_Lord Lucius Malfoy._

Harry grinned and spent the rest of the day shopping for the most expensive robes he could find. He settled on a white silk shirt and tailored black pants beneath a robe of emerald green with burnished bronze trimmings, green for the Malfoy Family and bronze for the Potter Family. The tie he chose was striped green and gold as well. He made sure to comb his hair, forcing it down into a respectable, slicked back pureblood style with a great deal of magical hair gel. He decided to take the Knight Bus, ignoring the stares he received as he was dropped off just outside the Malfoy Family Manor. It was enormous, but Harry carefully was not impressed; he'd found as many pictures and descriptions of the manor as he could in preparation. It wouldn't do to ogle like a Muggleborn child.

A cringing house-elf opened the enormous double doors at his loud knock.

"Harry Potter, Heir of the Potter Family, here to meet with Lord Malfoy," Harry said, barely glancing at the creature. Purebloods weren't supposed to, after all.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Master Harry Potter sir," the house elf said. "Follow Dobby, he'll show you to the Master, the Master's waiting for you."

"Very well," Harry said, and followed the house elf through the halls of Malfoy Manor. He nodded politely at the various portraits they passed, doing his best to remember the names of all the Malfoy ancestors. They all looked alike, angular faces and blond hair, but he'd spent hours studying moving photographs. He thought a few of the portraits actually looked impressed at being recognized, and hoped they weren't just stunned by his stupid mistakes.

The Manor truly was impressive, although Harry tried to hide it. There were multiple levels to the manor, but the main hall where Harry entered extended far upwards, and Harry had to resist the urge to crane his neck and stare at the ceiling as he walked along the vaulted corridors. The entire house was decked out in finery, most of it green and silver, Slytherin colors. The Malfoy Family colors were green and a charcoal grey that Harry also spotted around the manor. Harry absently wondered what the inside of the Potter Manor looked like; if this meeting went well he could probably find out soon enough. The key to the Potter Manor was inside the Potter Family Vault until a new Potter Lord took it.

The house elf finally opened a pair of double doors, giving Harry a deep bow. Harry walked into the room, a large and spacious chamber that could probably fit one hundred people comfortably. A medium sized ballroom, then. A very long table sat in the middle of the room, with Lucius Malfoy sitting with artful, casual elegance at the head. Harry immediately saw the trap set for him; the only other chair was at the opposite end of the table, but only a Lord could rightfully sit directly across from another Lord. Instead Harry walked around the table to Lucius left hand side without pausing, because he was not yet sure if he had Lucius' favor, so he couldn't sit at the man's right. However, as the Heir of a powerful pureblood family, Harry did have the right to sit next to Lucius.

Harry drew his wand, hoped that he wouldn't make a total fool of himself, and tried his first bit of conjuring. He'd practiced some magic, as there was an enormous loophole in the law concerning the restriction of underage magic. During their school years, children could not perform underage magic, nor could they purchase wands until they were accepted to a wizard school. However, from the time Harry's Hogwarts letter had arrived to when he first traveled to Hogwarts, Harry could perform magic as freely as any adult. Conjuration was certainly a stretch for a boy who hadn't even entered his first year, but Harry had found all of the spells exceedingly easy, and he'd conjured a chair or two before. Furniture conjuring was a rather large section in the helpful book _Surviving the Wizarding World for Muggelborns: How To Fix The Damage Before They Find Out._ He said the incantation as quietly as possible, nearly mouthing it; being loud was considered impolite and even extravagant or boastful. To Harry's great relief, a comfortable chair suitable for a wizard of his status appeared, and Harry sat himself.

Lucius looked at him with a flash of approval in his eyes, his face still calculatedly bored. "Greetings, Harry Potter, Heir of the Potter Family," Lucius drawled in aristocratic tones.

"Greetings, Lord Malfoy," Harry replied, hoping he didn't sound as unbelievably nervous as he felt. "I am grateful for your generous hospitality."

"Ah, yes," Lucius said cruelly. "I suppose you are accustomed to little more than a dirt hut. How... sad."

"Yes," Harry agreed, refusing to take offense, "Any home would seem a dirt hut when compared to the beauty and elegance of Malfoy Manor, would it not?"

"That I cannot deny," Lucius agreed, and wandlessly conjured a glass of wine, which he sipped with cultured grace. "And yet your home, if it could be called by such a flattering term, compares rather less favorably than most."

"It is to be expected of a Muggle dwelling," Harry pointed out. "They could never hope to compare to wizards in any way."

"Such a refreshing perspective from one so young," Lucius murmured. "The coming generations ever gain more perverse pleasure in dalliances with Muggles."

"I assure you, I do not intend to repeat my experiences," Harry said, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was. He felt in every way inferior to this man. Lucius simply reeked power, arrogance, money, and his every move was so sure, controlled, and graceful that Harry felt an oaf in comparison.

"I should hope not," Lucius said. "The Potter Family was once great, though no longer."

"Perhaps we are not as far gone as you have thought," Harry said, a bit more sharply than he intended. "I promise you this, Lord Malfoy, the Potter Family will no longer be content to remain silent in the shadows. Our power and the purity of our blood has always set us apart and above the rest of the wizarding world, and I do not intend to sit idly by and watch while my family becomes obsolete."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," Lucius drawled, "You have done a great many things since your eyes were opened to the wizarding world. Your intentions are clear. However, I find it difficult to accept that one so young and uneducated could truly accomplish such lofty goals. And, Mr. Potter, your blood is not so pure as you would pretend." Lucius' eyes glittered at that.

Harry frowned in irritation. "My Muggleborn mother's blood is unfortunate," he admitted. "However, one such dalliance is far from enough to destroy the purity that two and a half thousand years of wizard ancestry had given to the Potter line. Should I marry a pureblood of an appropriate family, as I am determined to do, my children will possess purity equal to that of my father's blood and the blood of my partner combined. You know this."

"There is truth to that," Lucius said, "But no pureblood of an appropriate family would deign to marry a half-blood such as yourself." Lucius' lips curled into a sneer of distaste at the word _half-blood_.

"That, Lord Malfoy," Harry said with some satisfaction, "Is where you are wrong."

"Indeed?" Lucius asked, raising one eyebrow smoothly. "Do explain."

Harry steeled himself, crushing all doubts. In effect he'd be destroying his family by doing this, but if he never actually married Draco Malfoy, none of this would matter anyway, and Harry would certainly break the engagement after his seventeenth birthday. "Should I marry the Heir of an appropriate pureblood family, the vast influences, purity, and fortunes of our families would be combined. However, I do not intend to marry the Heir of an appropriate pureblood family and thus join our families in an equal and mutually beneficial partnership."

"No?" Lucius asked archly.

"No," Harry said. "I intend to marry _into_ an appropriate pureblood family and thus transfer all the influence, purity, and fortune of my family into the other's forever."

Lucius tensed slightly at this, and his jaw clenched tightly to prevent a hiss of surprise. Lucius slowly, gracefully sat back, reclining in his chair, wineglass still dangling loosely from one pale, elegant hand. "I see, Mr. Potter," he said. "That is quite the offer."

It was exceedingly rare for any Heir to actually marry into another family. In fact, it was rare for the Heir of one family to even marry the Heir of another, and when it did happen the marriage was always an equal partnership, and the children would be divided equally as belonging to one of the two families of their parents. However, when a family member who was not the Heir married to an Heir, he or she always married into the other family, thus giving up all inheritance they may have received in their original family and effectively transferring themselves to the family of their spouse. Bellatrix Lestrange married into the Lestrange Family, and Narcissa Malfoy married into the Malfoy Family.

However, should an Heir actually marry into another family, he would bring with him his entire inheritance. If Harry married into the Malfoy Family, the Potter Family Vault would be abolished, and all its contents added to the Malfoy Family Vault. The Potter seats on the Wizengamot would be given to the Malfoy Family, the Potter Manor would become another Malfoy Manor. All children would belong to the Malfoy Family. In effect, the Potter Family would cease to exist, and all it was would become part of the Malfoy Family. Such a thing only happened on the rarest of occasions, and an offer like that was the dream of any pureblood family. Such an offer from the Potter Family, second in wealth, influence, power, and purity only to the Malfoys, was incalculably valuable.

Harry would still be called Lord Potter and the Potter and Malfoy Families would remain separate until the actual marriage. At that point, Harry would become the second Lord Malfoy. There were very, very few families with two Lords, because it implied twice the influence and power of any other family, and nearly impossible amounts of wealth and purity. Any Lord had a great deal of power; a Family that had two Lords would be unstoppable. Harry had only been able to find one mention of another family with two Lords, the Hevertas Family in Morocco, who were notorious recluses and never so much as dabbled in politics.

"You are quite the enigma, Harry James Potter, Heir of the Potter Family," Lucius said abruptly. "I find myself unable to fathom your motives, and that is a very rare thing. I can understand your desire to become Lord Potter, but you must realize that if you enter into such an engagement, even if the engagement is broken a good half of the status and influence of the Potter Family will revert to the Malfoy Family." Harry winced; he'd known that, but it was still hard to accept. "I cannot accept your arrangement if I remain wary hidden motives."

Harry opened his mouth and spoke before he could even think. "I like money," Harry said bluntly, actually startling a surprised chuckle out of Lucius. Harry determinedly decided to forge on despite the light blush staining his cheeks. "I don't care about the purity of my blood," he said. "I don't care about power, status, the Potter Manor, my Family name, or the respect and reverence of the wizarding world. If I break the engagement, half of all the Potter's assets reverts to the Malfoy Family, except the money. I still keep all my money. Frankly, I would be willing to sacrifice all the prestige, purity, and respect of the Potter Family to have the Potter Family Vault and the ability to use it as I see fit now. I have plans for my life, Lord Malfoy, and I refuse to wait. I need to start now, and to start I need my Family Vault, which is not altogether that difficult to get. However, unless I am emancipated, I cannot use that Vault freely, and I cannot be emancipated without a unanimous vote of the Wizengamot, which I cannot get, or the status of Lord Potter. If I do not break the engagement, you receive all the money, power, and purity of the Potters. If I do, you receive half of everything but the money, and I would be willing to negotiate that as well."

"You make a good argument, Mr. Potter," Lucius said. "However, you seem to have neglected one small detail. I do care about prestige and purity, the latter more so than others. I also might find myself at a disadvantage should... a certain other of a similar mindset discover that I have allied myself with you."

"I have neglected no detail, Lord Malfoy," Harry said firmly. "If the Dark Lord does not return, the benefits will still be yours. If the Dark Lord does return, you can report that you have achieved great things in his name. You have managed to trick and ensnare the Boy-Who-Lived. You have made the Boy-Who-Lived trust you, and create an alliance with you, as no one else has, and I assure you, no one else will. Even if you do not manage to use the alliance we create to capture me and deliver me to the Dark Lord, you can break the engagement yourself, thereby halving my power. I am sure that you can think of a suitably convincing argument as to the nefarious purposes behind your acceptance of my proposal, should you choose to accept."

"If the engagement is broken," Lucius said, "I want everything except the money. All of the seats on the Wizengamot and political influences, the Potter Manor and lands, the Potter house elves and artifacts, everything."

"Agreed," Harry said instantly.

"Now then," Lucius Malfoy said, reclining in his chair again. "Why is it that you have requested this meeting, Harry Potter?"

"I, Harry James Potter, Heir of the Potter Family, do ask for the hand in marriage of Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Malfoy Family, under the conditions that I do marry into the Malfoy Family, and should the engagement be prematurely ended, all of the Potter assets with the exception of the money in the Potter Family Vault be transferred to the possession of the Malfoy Family." Harry shivered, his skin tingling slightly. He could feel the magic in Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic, humming alive in the air, and now he felt that power dancing across his skin at the ritual words.

"I, Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the Malfoy Family, do accept the request of one Harry James Potter on the behalf of Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Malfoy Family." There was an audible crack, deeper and longer than that of Apparition, and abruptly a glowing cord of magical fire appeared around Harry's left wrist, binding him to Luciu's right hand. Another cord led from Harry's wrist off through one of the walls of Malfoy Manor, and a third disappeared through the ceiling. Harry knew that they connected him to Draco Malfoy and to Sirius Black, the others who were involved in the process. The cords flared once, then vanished.

Lucius snapped his fingers, and a few rolls of parchment appeared in front of him. He waved his hand, and writing immediately covered the various forms. At one point, Lucius conjured a black quill and signed his name. He then set aside the document where Draco would have to sign, and handed Harry the quill. Harry quickly signed where it was necessary. All the parchments disappeared except for one: the one that needed the signature of Sirius Black, temporary Guardian of one Harry James Potter.

"I will return this to you on the 31st of August," Harry said.

"Agreed." Lucius paused. "Will you be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" he asked.

"No," Harry said without hesitation. "I will not."

A small smirk played around Lucius' lips. "I thought as much," the man said. "I must admit, Harry Potter, you are quite different than I expected. I look forward to our future dealings."

"Agreed, Lord Malfoy," Harry replied. "It has been an extremely pleasurable visit."

"Mmm," Lucius hummed. "The house elf will show you out."

"Goodbye, Lord Malfoy," Harry. He stood, walked to Lucius right side, and bowed to what he hoped was the proper degree. He stepped back two steps, turned, and walked away and out of Malfoy Manor.

Lucius waited, a slight smirk still on his lips, occasionally sipping his wine. A few minutes later, he heard the fast, sharp footsteps of his son. Draco Malfoy entered the room in an impatient whirl of robes, striding up to his father.

"Ah, Draco," Lucius drawled, "I had been expecting you."

"Tell me, Father," Draco said, only a hint of the irritation his felt in his voice, "To whom am I to be married?"

"You should rather ask who is to be married to you," Lucius corrected.

"Very well. Who is to be married to me?" Draco asked, more calmly now.

"The Heir of a very powerful pureblood family will be marrying into our own," Lucius said, and enjoyed watching Draco's usually excellent poised mask drop as the boy gaped in clear shock. He blinked, snapping his mouth shut, and then a slow smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"I see," Draco said. "That's excellent, Father. And who is this Heir who is to marry me?"

"Harry James Potter," Lucius replied, "Heir of the Potter Family."

Lucius was well pleased when Draco did not act overly shocked or upset. His eyes narrowed slightly and he nodded. "The Potter Family," Draco murmured. "They are second only to our own Family. Then I shall be the first of two Lord Malfoys."

"One word of warning, Draco," Lucius said. "I would be careful if I were you. The two Lord Malfoys will be equal in power, although one will be a Malfoy through marriage only. Treat Harry Potter as your inferior and not your partner, and he will ruin this family from the inside. That I know after meeting him only once. Treat him as your partner and not your inferior, and he will make our family great."

"Then I assure you, Father, you have nothing to worry about. Harry Potter and I will make our family great together."

Line Break Here

At twelve o'clock on August 31st, Harry Potter arrived at the Office for the Imprisonment and Containment of Dangerous Magical Criminals on the second level of the Ministry of Magic. A moment later, a small head popped out from the office, followed by a large, rotund body.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," the big man said in a false voice. "What a pleasure. I am Erithmus Vigspratt, Chief Warden and Manager of Azkaban."

"It's wonderful to meet you," Harry said politely. "Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to help me."

"Of course, of course," Vigspratt said with a chuckle that made the rolls of fat around his stomach jiggle unpleasantly. "Right this way, then." Vigspratt led Harry to the Ministry Floos, where they waited in line for a moment while Vigspratt talked about the state of Apparition licenses in Brazil, or something along those lines. "You know how to use the Floo, of course," Vigspratt said.

"Of course," Harry agreed. He did know; he'd just never done it before.

"Good, good," Vigspratt chuckled, taking up a handful of Floo powder and gripping Harry's arm tightly before stepping into the fireplace. "Azkaban Station," he called, and the flames whirled before spitting them out in what looked like a small hut. Aurors lined the place. They quickly checked both Vigspratt and Harry's identities with various spells before Vigspratt led Harry out of the house, which turned out to be on a dark beach. Vigspratt climbed into a rickety wooden canoe with Harry behind him, and tapped the boat twice with his wand. It immediately sped off, and half an hour of meaningless prattle later, the boat bumped against the sandy rocks of a small island with an enormous prison protruding from the center. Harry felt distinctly nervous as he followed Vigspratt past a few more Auror guards and into Azkaban itself. He felt a strange chill and shivered, knowing that it was the Dementors guarding the prison cells above the below the ground level.

Vigspratt stopped talking, obviously feeling the cold as well, and silently led Harry past a few empty offices to a room at the end of a hall. Chains littered one end of the room, and the other had a neat, tidy wooden chair and table, where Harry sat. Vigspratt left without a word, and a short eternity later the door slammed open again. Three Aurors hoisted a man in the room, Vigspratt right behind them. One Auror muttered a spell with a sharp jab of the wand, and the chains literally came to life, wrapping around the man again and again, binding him completely to the ground, leaving only his head free of chains.

"You've got half an hour," Vigspratt said, all his false cheer gone, and left the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Harry sat back and looked at Sirius Black.

He'd been a handsome man once, smiling and carefree in the few pre-Azkaban pictures Harry had found of him. He'd looked decidedly less handsome on the cover of a very old copy of the Daily Prophet, cackling madly and covered in blood as Aurors dragged him to the ground. This was the man who had betrayed Lily and James Potter to their deaths, and sentenced Harry to his life with the Dursleys. This was also his temporary Guardian. His hair was longer than Harry had seen in the pictures, and matted with dirt and blood. His skin was stretched too tightly over his bones, giving him a gaunt, starved look. His eyes were dark grey and stared at Harry with a frighteningly intense hunger.

"Harry?" Sirius Black whispered in a stunned voice. "Is that you?"

"Hello, Lord Sirius Black," Harry said.

A tear actually trickled down one of Black's cheeks. "I'm so glad you're all right," Black said in relief. "I was so worried, but I had to give you up - you understand, don't you? I had to get to Peter, he was going to get away, and your parents - " Black's eyes closed briefly, and he gave a choked sob. "It's my fault," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's all my fault! I killed them, it was my fault!" Black was definitely crying now.

Harry cleared his throat and took the two parchments he needed signed out of his robes, along with the expensive quill and ink. "I need you to sign these papers, please," Harry said.

"W-what?" Black asked, looking a little shocked.

"I've come to ask you to sign these papers," Harry said, gesturing to them. "I'm not interested in your sad stories or excuses as to why exactly you killed my parents. That was ten years ago, Lord Black, and there are much more pressing matters to attend to."

"I wasn't the Secret-Keeper," Black said in a deathly quiet voice. "It was Pettigrew."

"Are you going to sign the papers?" Harry asked, irritated. "How about we make a deal. Sign the papers, and then I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me for the rest of the half hour I have. Otherwise, I'm leaving."

"What do they say?" Black asked.

Harry had been hoping he wouldn't. "This one gives me full access and complete control over the Potter Family Vault," Harry said, tapping the paper. "And this one is a marriage contract legitimizing my engagement to Draco Malfoy."

Black's eyes snapped to Harry. "What?" he gasped.

"Sign or I leave," Harry said bluntly.

Black's eyes skittered around the room desperately. "I'll sign," he said abruptly.

"Excellent." Harry carefully dipped the quill in ink and then held it up to Black's mouth. He bit it and Harry tapped where he needed to sign. Clumsily, moving his head jerkily, Black managed to sign his name on both documents. Harry then took back the quill, stoppered up the ink, and returned everything to his robes. "Thank you, Lord Black," he said formally. "All right, then, I'll listen." Harry hoped that he could last the whole half hour listening to his parents' murderer. Considering what he'd managed so far, it should be easy.

It wasn't.

Black began to tell a story about four boys called the Marauders: Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. When James was forced into hiding, he only trusted his fellow Marauders enough to become his Secret-Keeper. Sirius was closest to James, and so everyone thought that he'd be chosen as the Secret-Keeper. But James and Sirius both knew that Sirius was the obvious choice, and Sirius suspected that Remus Lupin was a spy for the Dark Lord. After all, Remus was a werewolf; it was possible. Peter Pettigrew, however, small, weak, and insignificant, would always be overlooked. No one would ever dream that Peter could be the Secret-Keeper.

But Peter was a servant of the Dark Lord, and he betrayed Lily and James to his master. When Sirius Black heard the news, he rushed over to the Potter house to find Lily and James Potter dead, and baby Harry crying on the ground. Sirius knew that it was his fault, he never should have suggested Peter, and he was overcome by grief. He gave Harry to Hagrid, the Gameskeeper at Hogwarts, trusting that the big man and Dumbledore could keep the baby safe. Sirius then went after Peter, and found him on a Muggle street. Peter blew up the street behind his back, cut off one finger, and transformed into his form as a rat Animagus, escaping down into the sewers and leaving Sirius to be blamed.

"That's quite the story," Harry said when it was through. "I'll want some proof." As Harry watched carefully, Sirius' form shifted to a skinny dog which could very nearly wriggle lose of the chains, but not quite, and then back again.

"Interesting," Harry said. His mind somehow wasn't processing this. It was too much. "That doesn't prove your story. Even if I believed you, I can't help you without first capturing Peter Pettigrew."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Sirius said. "I - I - I'm so sorry." He began to cry dully.

The door opened. "Time's up," Vigspratt said, and Harry stood.

"Goodbye, Lord Black," he said quietly, and left.

After the journey back to the Ministry, which seemed to take forever, Harry turned to shake Vigspratt's hand. "I just wanted to thank you again for the trip." When Harry let go of his hand, Vigspratt's fingers were clasped around a small bag of ten Galleons. "And for your discretion."

Vigspratt grinned slowly, good mood restored. "No problem, Mr. Potter. Any time."

Once Vigspratt has disappeared into his office, Harry made his way to Hilda Graffinberg's office. As soon as he entered, her head snapped up eagerly, and a smile bloomed on her face, a light blush staining her cheeks.

"I have the form for you," Harry said, returning a false smile. He handed Hilda the document with Sirius Black's signature scrawled messily across the proper line. Hilda scanned over it, obviously not paying much attention, and then looked back at Harry.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I'm glad to say that everything is in order!" She beamed. "You now officially and legally have full access to and control of the Potter Family Vault!" Hilda snapped her fingers, and the documents disappeared. Harry felt the light tingle of magic up his back and grinned in satisfaction.

"Thank you so much, Hilda," he said with a winning smile. "You've just been so helpful, I can hardly begin to thank you!"

"Oh, it's no bother at all, Mr. Potter!" she said happily.

"Please," he said, "Call me Harry."

"Oh! Well, of course! Wonderful!" Hilda looked so flattered that Harry felt extremely awkward.

"Ah, I'd better get going," he said, forcing a note of regret into his voice. "I hope to see you again soon, Hilda," he added.

"Me too, Harry!" she said excitedly, waving as he left the office. "Goodbye then!"

As soon as Harry reached Privet Drive, he immediately went to his room. He greeted Fax, giving the vain eagle owl a good preening with agile fingers. When Fax was crooning happily beneath his ministrations, Harry wrote out his letter to Lucius Malfoy.

_To Lord Lucius Malfoy,_

_I am pleased to say that our arrangement has been concluded in a timely manner. I trust that the documentation concerning the agreement between our two noble Families is in order. Should you have any concerns, I would be more than happy to address any matter you feel is important. I am confident that both parties will find themselves quite satisfied with this alliance._

_Harry James Potter, Heir to the Potter Family._

Harry sent the letter off with Fax, who was far more willing and eager to take the trip to the Malfoy Manor after being groomed so perfectly. He spent the rest of the day at his usual tasks; scouring countless books on the wizarding world, attempting to absorb every mote of information possible on traditions, customs, and business, and planning exactly what he'd do once he had the money and power necessary. Five hours after he sent his message, Fax returned with a small note.

_To Harry Potter, Heir of the Potter Family,_

_The documents were in order, and have been filed in the proper places. Only the finalizing words are necessary. Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Malfoy Family, has already spoken these words. Once the arrangement is finalized, the paperwork will be sent to the correct channels. An hour after that, should everything proceed as expected, you shall receive the title of Lord._

_Lord Lucius Malfoy._

Harry licked his lips eagerly. "I, Harry James Potter, Heir of the Potter Family, do accept the engagement decreed between my person and that of Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Malfoy Family, under the conditions that I do marry into the Malfoy Family, and should the engagement be prematurely ended, all of the Potter assets with the exception of the money in the Potter Family Vault be transferred to the possession of the Malfoy Family. _Verus Fides_." Harry shivered as the now-familiar tingle of magic coursed through his body, stronger than ever before, like a hum beneath his skin. It ended as quickly as it came. Harry let out the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding and attempted to return to his books while he waited. The following hour was agonizing, and Harry couldn't concentrate knowing that somewhere, Lucius Malfoy had set into motion the events necessary to legally emancipate him in the eyes of the wizarding world.

Almost exactly an hour after Harry spoke the finalizing words, a plain brown owl swooped into his room, dropped a letter, and left. Harry recognized the seal as that of the Ministry and quickly tore upon the letter.

_Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that your recent engagement to Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy Family, has emancipated you under the Protection and Continuation of Pureblood Lineage Act of 1275. Therefore, you are now entitled to the name of Lord Potter._

_The Ministry of Magic hopes that you have a pleasant day._

_Dolores Jane Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic_

_The Ministry of Magic._

Harry grinned as a tingle of magic sent shivers down his spine. Lucius Malfoy's large eagle owl swooped into the room moments later and left just as quickly, leaving Harry with one final note.

_To the Lord Harry Potter,_

_I have fulfilled my end of our arrangement. I expect you to fulfill yours as well._

_I will watch your doings with the utmost care and attention._

_Lord Lucius Malfoy._

Harry gently folded up the letter and slid it into one of his notebooks, finding it impossible to keep an enormous smile off his lips.

He had accomplished the first part of his goals; now he was Lord Harry James Potter, with all the privileges - and wealth - that came with that title.

There was no time to waste. Now the real work started.

Hello! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, it's really encouraging! Real life has currently been trying to keep me from updating, but I'm doing my best. :) Thanks again, hope you liked it.


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